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Andrea Cullen Sep 2012
And so, there he stood, transparentised  by the lies that have entangled our lives and brought down

Our Skies.

And through him I see me,

I see a girl I promised not to be

Again, Again, Again

and now it's the end and I'm saying sorry for things for which I have already apologised,

We even tried to compromise, find a way around the sly, deceiving, misleading lies.


But somewhere along the way he lost me,

Unable to be the man I needed him to be,

Worn down by my consistent cruelty.

A cruelty born from love, out of fear,

A cruelty not at all present right here,

A cruelty from within, born from sin and pain and personal gain and now loss.


Lost.


Gone but not forgotten, decomposing not yet rotten and before me lays a new life and I'm just not sure

where I slot in.


Not scared of being alone no more,

He made me strong enough to realise that life alone is worth fighting for.


Alone?


Life alone

is worth fighting for?



And now

toute seule

I realise I am still a little girl trying to be a grown up,

It wasn't easy but now I can own up:


I am just a little girl
Andrea Cullen Sep 2012
A creation of imperfection
Without infection, so no need for protection
But that man he had me vexin' when there was no need for perplexin'
Just reflection.

Reignite the light in this deep, dark hole
But it was already too cold,
I was feeling old, not so bold.
Tried my best to fit the mould of your world,
Be that untouchable girl that you wanted me to be.
But you see, this girl needs touch,
Not too much,
Just enough to get by,
Avoiding having to lie,
And needing him to try not get too high 'cos, I don't want to die.

But sometimes it felt that way,
The words we'd make each other say,
Arguing tomorrow, ******* today
Fumbling our way through a life, full of strife
But also potential.
Endless potential...

So why let go?

Well things move on and you've got to stay strong 'cos after all there's not that much wrong.
I have my own bed, my own head
An iron fist, full of lead, ready to pound, trying to find the sound
But the sound it found me
And now I'm where I wanna be,
In another man's arms, sure
But he isn't the cure
Just a friend to lend a hand when things don't quite turn out the way you planned.
And this isn't what I planned.
Andrea Cullen Sep 2012
Entangled in action that I knew was wrong
Yet plead ignorance to what’s going on,
As the song I’m singing hurts my ears,
Fills me with fears that I promised would not distress me again.

Again

Again

Until another us reaches another end.
Speeding up now.
I know not the whys, just the hows.
Ive seen inside and there’s no pride, just a ****** reality to hide the lies
Or so-called half-truths: whole lies disguised in demise,
Hidden behind my dark, sultry, convincing eyes.

So now, for truth.
Truth I must share as proof that I loved you,
Love me:

There was nothing above you
But light and learning which stunted this yearning for greedy pleasures,
At least for a while,
Hid behind a smile.
Buried at the back of a shared cupboard,
Nestled at the top of a tree in a secret wood
That I’ve struggled to find again
So, no wonder you couldn’t.
I knew that i shouldn’t.
Not just for us, but for me, for my own sanity
I had lost a-aaall clarity,
Needed a man,
His touch,
You see?

Touching.

Fleeting.

Empty strokes from a boy I knew no more,
Scurried down stairs to call you curled up on the floor.
Cried into your tee shirt as he closed the door.
I’m not going to tell you any more.
I know you’ve played it in your mind a hundred times already.
Before, please believe our love was pure.
Andrea Cullen Sep 2012
Confusing messages of misadventured youths

"The best mistake ever made" to her

A carefully played plan to another her

Yet always surrounded by unfailing encouragement, the labour government and an inherent love for royalty.



A red, velvet curtain opened on a child growing from seedling to tree

And in turn took from that tree its very leaves,

But only through inquistiveness,

No malice, despite the lies.

Truth prevailed when the bird was caught which demonstrates a sense of good, I thought.



Renegaded, so rebelled,

Parental issues yet to be dispelled become increasingly difficult through distance.

Dance daddy: a fabricated memory seen through a sister's eyes.

Close but not so close that we touch because after this long that'd probably be a little much.

                                                                                              

First love,

LOOK LOVE!

Next love,

**** LOVE!

**** love hard in the ***, **** them to make them love you and hope it'll pass

**** FOREVER!



Stop.

Breathe.

Explore.


Open your mind and look inside.

Try not to hide from the eyes that want to see you,

Be You!

Try to understand you!

Peel your bleeding fingers from your sodden face and let you in.
                                                                                              


Incessant chatting in a circle of moon-eyed 'lovers'.

Mutinies, epiphanies, breakfast with balloon families,

Lest we forget the lies,

Ducking,

Diving,

More *******,

Skiving,

Writhing,

Without Guilt,

Much to everyone else's dismay!

He loves you, they'll say

But it didn't work out that way.

That one, he wasn't strong

And when things went wrong, he'd hit a ****.

And I'd disappear with the smoke

A nice bloke, just not for me.


And so, love number three

A write, a poet,

Inner turmoil, didn't show it.

Left home and ran but this one he took my hand,

And I'd open up his windows with the curtains closed.

Retrieve this wondrous creature from his pit of self-doubt.

And that inner-turmoil?

I think it came out.

The story doesn't end there,

But right now that's all I'm willing to share!
Andrea Cullen Sep 2012
This "Transparency" is a fallacy
That comes from intimacy
With lack of clarity...

One must not  profess
To know what's best
When your trials and errors
Are yet to stand the test
Of Time

Tick tock
Trying to ride a wave
But your ship wants to dock

So stop
Take it in
Ask where you're going to
Forget where you've been

Take all your mistakes
And whatever it takes
To our lake of Freedom
A co-created kingdo
Andrea Cullen Sep 2012
I come from a silly idea


I come from running away, wanting to stay, not knowing the way

I come from choo-choo trains, My Little Pony manes, and a book of baby's names

I come from wetting the bed,

I come from sharp pains in the head to darkness and bright pills

To bright light


From passionate nights with him and him and him

I come from within

without doubt

I come from my mum

I come from a finger in my ***!

I come from beauty and deceit

I come whole yet incomplete

I come from smelly feet


I come from you, the I-don't-know-who

I come from books and looks and regretful *****

I come from mistakes,

I come from misinterpretation,

I come from "Miss! I don't understand!"

I come from a faraway land to here.


I come from a silly idea.
A poem written in response to the title "I come from..."

— The End —